10:09
Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t met my family
Chapter Seven
Alex
I’m pacing the tiny Hartwell airport like an expectant father in the waiting room after his wife’s been in labor for what feels like three days straight.
Mom picked me up from the airport earlier and drove me home, chattering about everything happening with the family and around Hollybrook. Her enthusiasm over Finley’s arrival is cautious, but I expect that’ll change the moment she meets her.
Traffic into Hollybrook was brutal, so it took longer to get home than it took for the flight from Boston to Hartwell. I had barely dropped my suitcase in the entryway and ate the snack Mom insisted on feeding me, before she shoved the Wagoneer keys into my hand and sent me back to the airport. Dad was at work, and Mom said Tyler and Mallory were finishing some last-minute Christmas shopping, but everyone will be home when I arrive with Finley. Everyone except Grant and Eloise, who won’t be arriving until late afternoon on Christmas Eve.
I’m suddenly having major second thoughts, but I keep telling myself I’ll feel better once she gets here and the introductions are over.
Finley’s arriving several hours after me. I couldn’t get her on any of my flights, and I was lucky to snag her the last available seat out of Atlanta today, but it arrives three hours later than mine. My original plan had been to meet her at Boston Logan so we could take the commuter flight together to Vermont. But her flight got in too late to make my connection, and when I checked the two remaining flights to Hartwell, each only had one seat available.
She texted that she made it to Boston okay, then followed up that her commuter flight was delayed thirty minutes. I’ve probably asked the airport manager over a dozen times for status updates. He’s clearly annoyed, but my anxiety keeps ratcheting higher. I’m not ordinarily anxious, and it’s been six years since I’ve felt this out of control. I didn’t handle it well back then, so I never learned any tricks I could use for handling it now.
I’m just about to ask again when the manager gives me a weary look. “The plane’s landing now.” Then he points to the window overlooking the two-runway tarmac.
The aircraft touches down then rolls to the terminal. A gentle snow is falling, and my first thought is how much Finley will love it.
The thought catches me off guard. Sure, part of our bargain is that I make sure she gets her full dose of Hollybrook Christmas magic, but once she’s here, it technically isn’t my job to guarantee she has a good time. And yet, ever since I’ve landed in Vermont, I’ve been looking at everything through her eyes. I keep having flickers of excitement at how she’ll react, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
But we are friends. And friends want the best for each other. That’s all. That’s enough.
There’s no security at this airport, so I walk up to the glass to watch for Finley. The plane door swings open, the steps are rolled into place, and passengers begin filing out. Enough people get off that I wonder if Finley changed her mind and caught a flight back to Atlanta. Just when I’m about to text her—what, I don’t know, because did you change your mind? doesn’t seem like the brightest idea—she appears at the top of the steps.
She freezes, glancing around the snowy tarmac, and her whole face lights up with wonder. Something swells in my chest, stealing my breath.
What the hell is that?
Probably relief? She’s here, and she looks happy and excited. That’s a solid start. The happier she is, the more likely she’ll want to stay.
A man practically twice her size exits the plane behind her, barreling down the steps. When they hit the asphalt at nearly the same time, he shoves her aside in his hurry.
I see red—not just because he laid a hand on her, but because that sparkle in her expression dims.
Passengers file into the building, but the guy charges for the exit. On impulse, I block his path.
“What the hell, man?” he snaps.
“You just shoved my girlfriend when you were getting off the plane,” I bite out.
“She was too damn slow. I’ve got places to be.”
“It’s her first time here. She’s never seen snow like this.” My fists clench at my sides. “Your rudeness might have ruined it for her.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I know how ridiculous they sound. What the hell is wrong with me? I’d blame it on jetlag, but Vermont is in the same time zone as Atlanta.
To my surprise, the man’s face softens.
“Sorry, man. My kid’s sick. I need to get to the hospital.”
Now I feel like an ass. “Sorry,” I mutter, but he’s already running for the exit.
I’m about to examine why I felt the need to accost the guy, when I turn and see Finley coming through the door. Snowflakes cling to her long, dark waves, and the ivory cardigan she’s wrapped in makes her hair look even darker. It throws me off since she always wears it up at the coffee shop. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her eyes bright as she scans the tiny lobby.
